A Page Being Turned
by Charlie-Of-Oz
Summary: Klaine's daughter inherited her parents' talent, a fact which repeatedly hits Kurt like a freight train.


_A/N: Title is from the song "Quiet" which is from Matilda the Musical. It's the song being referenced at the start, as well as Matilda is the show._

* * *

A cool wetness trickles down his cheek before he realizes he's crying. He remains still, a part of the hush that settles over the entire audience, captivated by the spell this small girl cast over them, the gentle melody sending chills down his spine.

Blaine squeezes his hand a little tighter, and he pulls in a shuddery breath. He has survived two hours without breaking his promise to himself, but endings are sad and the day is catching up to him.

:: ::

Kurt came home late last night, after a busy line at stage door and a few drinks out with castmates. Blaine was sleeping sitting up with a book in his lap and Lola curled up at his feet. He shuffled around, getting undressed and shifting the book and glasses from Blaine to the end table. He shooed the cat away, curling Blaine into his arms and drifting off to sleep himself.

:: ::

Waking up this morning consisted of seventy pounds of small child carelessly crawling across him with Lola in her arms to settle in between him and Blaine at sunrise. They stayed in bed, Blaine and Devon watching cartoons and taking selfies with the cat while Kurt nestled into his pillow, comfortable and sleepy. Only when hunger started clawing at his insides did he remove himself from the warmth of bed.

They don't get many days like this. Eight shows a week, rehearsals, and appearances have kept him from home far too often. They've made it a rule to never be in shows that overlap so someone is always there for Dev, but Blaine still works teaching master classes around the city when he can. During the week, Devon is usually at school by this hour, and she's a million times busier than either he or Blaine was at ten years old.

Knowing all this, and that it'd likely be weeks to a month before they have a slow morning again, made it overwhelmingly difficult to even lift the covers, but it's the life he chose and he can't stop time.

Blaine followed him out of the bedroom, Devon followed Blaine. The invisible strings tethering them were felt today by all.

It was a quiet morning, the kind meant for decompressing. They ate breakfast, relaxing in easy company, then sat around talking, laughing, just being near one another until they had to leave. They visited Central Park in search of freedom from the indoors, a break from the congestion of the city at large before meandering their way to the theater district, thankful for the relative anonymity New York affords. To the straggling crowds, the trio were simply another family out for a Sunday stroll.

Leaving the park, Devon bounced excitedly through the city streets, holding hands with each of her fathers. Kurt had waited all day for any signs of jitters from Devon, any indication she was feeling the pressure of the hours to come, but she showed none and he figured all the nerves had passed on to him.

:: ::

It takes a bit to pull it together, but he manages the last half hour without incident. He's the first on his feet – Blaine is second – when the show is over. The bucket of tears he's been holding back spills over when Devon comes out to take her bows. Tomorrow they'll be a picture of his tear-painted face spreading like wildfire, courtesy of a fan with no sense of theater etiquette, but today his little girl finished her first run in a Broadway show and the flash he catches from the corner of his eye is as relevant to him as his high school chemistry class.

He can't applaud hard enough watching Devon wear her success with the confidence he took years to master.

Busy with his own work, Kurt rarely gets to see Devon perform; unlike Blaine, who accompanies her to every show. And now it's over.

He's completely beside himself while the whole cast stands on stage and bids Devon a final farewell, then they're gone and people are filing out of the theater.

Blaine presses a quick kiss to Kurt's cheek before dragging him out to head backstage.

Devon throws herself in her fathers' arms when she sees them approaching. No one interrupts, just moves around them. Kurt is crying more tonight than he's cried in the last decade, but he can't help it as he tells his daughter how proud he is of her. Blaine is in no better state than Kurt, peppering kisses and praise all over her cheeks and hair until she pushes him away.

:: ::

Devon exhausts herself celebrating with friends and passes out the second they get home. Blaine carries her to bed and Kurt busies himself with feeding Lola and straightening the millions of things they've tossed onto the coffee table.

Blaine comes back and pulls him from his tasks. Kurt clings to Blaine, overwhelmed and brimming with pride, astounded by the tiny girl who sleeps down the hall from him every night, who snorts into her cereal when her Uncle Cooper tells a joke, who colors outside the lines sometimes, who takes at least fifty pictures of her cat every day, who mispronounced the word "fish" until she was five, who is a perfectly ordinary girl, who floored an entire theater of people every week for the past year. He clings to Blaine, the shared responsibility of parenting that astounding girl too heavy in the moment.

When he can stand on his own again, he kisses Blaine softly and thanks him. For what exactly, he's not sure, but it seems fitting. By some miracle, the man he's loved for twenty years loves him just as much, and they have a life and a family, a little girl whose existence is the reason for his.

In the stillness of nightfall, they lay in bed buzzing with the sadness of bittersweet endings and the delight of new beginnings.


End file.
